


Mischievous Miko

by Artemis_Dreamer



Series: The Squishy Apocalypse [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Dessert & Sweets, Drabble, F/M, Fat Robots, Fluff, Food/Feeding Kink, I'm Going to Hell, Implied Xenophilia, Medical Examination, Not Canon Compliant, Weight Gain, belly stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 12:05:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10020032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Dreamer/pseuds/Artemis_Dreamer
Summary: It had all started in the parking lot outside of Jasper Stadium during a rock concert. Miko had been carrying an armload of cheap concession-stand snacks, and it was then that Bulkhead had made his mistake.---In which Bulkhead dreads Ratchet's routine medical checkups, because Miko may or may not be a feeder.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TomorrowsHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomorrowsHero/gifts).



> WARNING: This is a work of fetish fiction, involving unhealthy eating, weight gain, and implied belly stuffing.
> 
> Don't like, don't read.

In Bulkhead's defense, it was Miko's idea.

Actually, that no longer qualified as a defense. By this point, the wrecker should have known better than to listen to any of the girl’s bizarre suggestions or crazy schemes.

The outcome was invariably disastrous, often featuring a harsh lecture from Ratchet as the medic pounded fresh dents out of the wrecker's aft, or a thoroughly disapproving glare from an incredibly disappointed Optimus Prime. 

Yes, among the Autobots, the Prime’s glare was considered to be a form of punishment. That glare could make anymech short of Megatron himself break down and beg for forgiveness. And today, Bulkhead was certain that he’d be on the receiving end of that glare. (After his mandatory visit to Ratchet.)

He definitely should have known better than to listen to Miko.

It had all started in the parking lot outside of Jasper Stadium during a rock concert. The girl had climbed into his passenger seat scowling, furious that her host parents had demanded that she "come home right now" because "you’re out past curfew" and “you didn’t ask for permission.” Reasonable demands, but not one's that she'd wanted to hear.

Miko had been carrying an armload of cheap concession-stand snacks, and it was then that Bulkhead had made his mistake.

"Hey, Miko, are you sure that pink thing is food? Looks kinda weird to me." The wrecker's tone was hesitant and worried, concerned that his charge would make herself sick.

The girl had laughed, her mood instantly lifted by her guardian's innocent question. Her reply was amused, but not mocking. She never mocked him. "Silly Bulkhead, of course it's food! It's called cotton candy. You wanna try some?"

The wrecker replied with the single word that had sealed his fate. "Sure!"

The cotton candy had been delicious. So had every other thing that Miko had insisted on feeding him over the course of the last few decaorns. 

Bulkhead hadn't expected that human foods would taste this good. In fact, he hadn't had any expectations at all. He quickly discovered that they were the best things he'd ever tasted.

The result of this discovery was simple but inevitable. No matter how much food Miko brought with her to the base, it would all be gone by the end of the day. The wrecker wasn't about to leave a single scrap uneaten, even if it meant stuffing himself to the point that it became difficult to even move, never mind to transform.

Yes, transformation was difficult on a full tank, never mind on a tank so overstuffed that Bulkhead’s broad chassis plating had to actually distend in order to accommodate it. Still, his duty was to escort Miko home, and that duty required him to transform, regardless of the difficulty. 

To be fair, the wrecker’s processor never even took difficulty into account. He cared about Miko. He wanted to ensure her safety. And ultimately, she was well worth the pain. 

Decaorns of stuffing himself with these delicious treats would eventually have consequences - he'd known that. He'd known that, but it hadn't slowed his rampant gorging. His already large frame had become truly massive, the thick plating of his limbs and chassis now padded with a generous layer of fat. 

When he walked, his thighs rubbed together. No, that was an understatement - his massive thighs positively squeezed past one another with each of his lumbering pedesteps.

When he laughed - which he so often did while in Miko’s company - his vast belly actually jiggled, the plating quivering with each amused exvent.

And when he fought, he could feel each impact shuddering though every inch of his softened frame, as the fat absorbed and redistributed the shock. 

So, those consequences? 

Today was the day that Ratchet performed the team's annual medical examinations, a series of thorough (and thoroughly invasive) tests to determine whether all five members of Team Prime were healthy and fit for active duty. Bulkhead was fairly sure that the mass he'd gained wasn't at all healthy.

Who'd have known that eating human food could make a mech fat? 

Bulkhead's considerable weight gain wasn't immediately obvious to the optics, given that it was evenly distributed over such a large and bulky frame. Ratchet, however, noticed the change in an instant.

"And what exactly do you call this?" The medic inquired tartly, raising a single optic ridge. His left servo pinched at a roll of the softened plating around Bulkhead's chassis, and his right servo rested squarely on his hip.

"Um... new mod?" The wrecker fumbled for an explanation, telling the first lie that entered his processor.

He knew that Ratchet wouldn't buy it for a nanoklik, and of course, Ratchet didn’t buy it for a nanoklik. "I'll tell you what it is. Fat, plain and simple. You've been ingesting human fuel, haven't you?" 

"Well, Miko -" Bulkhead began. In his haste to explain, it didn't occur to him that such a statement would throw the girl under a metaphorical bus. 

"Don't interrupt me, and don't give me excuses." Ratchet snapped, his tone harsh. "Miko doesn't understand the effects of organic matter on Cybertronians, nor should she be expected to. You, on the other hand-"

The medic broke off abruptly at the sight of the wrecker's distress. His frame was tucked in on itself, his helm was bowed, and his EM field radiated shame. Bulkhead was a powerful mech, but a sensitive one, and Ratchet knew that he had been excessively harsh.

He continued his lecture in a calmer and more understanding tone. "You, on the other hand, know that it causes us to gain weight. That being said, you should also know that it won't hurt you."

"It won't?" Bulkhead was thoroughly confused, but his tone was hopeful. 

"Exactly. At this stage, the change is largely cosmetic," Ratchet confirmed. At the sight of the wrecker’s relived grin, the medic knew that a cautionary statement was in order.

"At this stage." He reiterated firmly. "Get much bigger, and it'll start to affect your speed and maneuverability. And your combat ability, of course." Ratchet added that last part knowing full well that while the wrecker cared nothing for agility, he valued his fighting skill above all else - it was the skill that kept him online.

"Okay." Bulkhead nodded. "I think I get it. Does this mean I can keep eating with Miko? She said she'd bring me lunch today, and..."

His words trailed off as the medic gave him a thoroughly exasperated glare. 

Said medic then spent several long moments looking into the wrecker’s surprisingly effective puppy-dog optics, before exventing with annoyance. He knew that he’d been beaten. "Fine. But I expect you to tell me the instant that any of your systems start slowing down!"

Bulkhead nodded his overly enthusiastic assent, clearly eager to get the examination over with. For once, Ratchet obliged. A few more scans were performed, a few more notes were made on the appropriate medical charts, and then Ratchet was ushering Bulkhead out of the medbay, a firm servo on the wrecker's shoulder. 

Speaking of Miko, the girl was waiting outside the door of the medbay, clearly impatient to see her guardian. She was laden down with five bulging grocery bags, practically bouncing on her pedes with excitement at the sight of the wrecker.

"Bulky!" She exclaimed. "I brought Pocky, and Oreos, and those little chocolate cupcakes you like so much, and I just know you're going to love these candy apples, and - !" 

"Thanks Miko," Bulkhead grinned sheepishly, unsure of how to respond. She'd brought him a massive amount of food, and it was sorely tempting to eat it all, but he knew that Ratchet had ordered him to cut back.

He also knew that he couldn’t bear to disappoint her. 

Before the rational part of his processor could object, Bulkhead found himself halfway to stuffed yet again, and he could honestly say that he'd never been happier. Sitting in the corner of the rec room, with Miko perched happily on his bulging chassis as she tossed Oreos into his open mouth - it was bliss, plain and simple.

He knew that he should be cutting back. He knew that stuffing himself with these treats would eventually have consequences. 

He was willing to risk it.

Prime's disapproving glare had nothing on a pouty Miko.

**Author's Note:**

> For TomorrowsHero, who requested squishy Bulkhead.
> 
> How much Miko is too much Miko? I think I just answered that question. Inappropriately. 
> 
> I'm still taking squishy requests - G1, Prime or Animated, any mech or pairing you'd prefer - if you don't mind a bit of a wait time.
> 
> Any and all feedback is appreciated!


End file.
